


Dean, er... Deanna

by JustAWinchesterGirl



Series: SPN/Reader Oneshots [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Casual Cissexism, Dean got body swapped but I still use male pronouns cuz it's still Dean, Dean is temporarily in a female body, F/F, Other, bi reader, but not really f/f, f/f - Freeform, he gets ate out and finger fucked if that's what you wanna know, hints at bi Dean, not sure what else to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:52:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWinchesterGirl/pseuds/JustAWinchesterGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean gets cursed by a witch, the curse has some interesting, and enjoyable, consequences for you, his girlfriend.</p><p>(Can be read as a sequel/in the same universe as Confidential Information, but doesn't have to be.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean, er... Deanna

**Author's Note:**

> I am 100% imagining Dianna Agron as female!Dean, just so you have an image going in.  
> And sex or no sex, come on this is an episode that needs to be done!  
> Hope you enjoy it!

“Dibs the shower!” Dean calls as the three of you arrive, hot, sweaty, and tired, at the bunker in the middle of the night after a long, hard hunt.

A witch had been putting curses on her towns’ residents that she held grudges against. When you’d finally tracked her down, she ended up being a 14 year old kid. Of course, you couldn’t kill her- her targets had been severely injured at worst, embarrassed at best- so you’d tried talking to her instead. Well, talking did not work well with the girl, so you’d had to get her arrested, for her own good. She’d ended up going to a Youth Detention Center when found guilty of several of the incidents in the community- but not before she’d promised she’d cast a curse on Dean. Nothing seemed to be happening though, so you’d chalked it up to the young witch’s inexperience and called it a day.

“I wanted the shower,” you grumble under your breath, but fall onto the sofa instead of arguing with your boyfriend over the bathroom.

“Well, feel free to join me, sweetheart,” he grins at you and shoots you a wink.

You knew there would be no showering going on if you hopped into the shower with Dean, so you decline, “No, I’ll wait.”

He frowns at you, “You’re no fun,” he says, but then he smiles and goes down the hall to the shower.

“I’m just gonna go to bed,” Sam says, sighing, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Sam,” you say, watching him leave the bunker’s living room, leaving you alone. You sigh and relax into the cushions of the couch. You debate skipping your shower altogether and just going to crawl into Dean’s bed to wait for him and going to sleep. Then you hear a shriek from the bathroom, a voice you’ve never heard before, a woman’s voice.

You jump up and run towards the bathroom, bursting in without knocking, “What’s going on?” There’s a woman standing there, naked, wet from the spray of the shower. She’s got long dirty blonde curls, a strong jaw, and deep green eyes. She’s staring at you with wide, scared eyes and clutching one of Dean’s large t-shirts to her chest.

“Who are you?” you ask, on edge, “Where’s Dean?”

“Y/N,” she says quietly, “I _am_ Dean!”

“What do you mean **you’re** Dean?” you almost shout, confusion filling your senses, “Prove it!”

She lowers the t-shirt to show you the anti-possession tattoo on her breast.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” you say, trembling, “That just means you’re a hunter or something, I have the exact same one!”

“I _know_ , Y/N. I took you to get it!” She says, exasperated.

You clench your jaw, still unsure whether or not to believe that this woman is somehow Dean, or whether this is some kind of trap, “Tell me something only Dean and I would know.”

She thinks for a minute, then smirks- and her mouth looks exactly like Dean’s, “Last week we had sex on Baby’s hood while Sam was asleep in the backseat, and he still has no idea.” She chuckles, and her laugh sounds like Dean’s, only higher.

“Dean?” your eyes widen.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” he says, a look of relief crossing his drastically changed features.

“What happened?” you ask, your eyes involuntarily roaming Dean’s new body.

“Hell if I know,” he rants, “That witch must’ve cursed me after all.”

You laugh, “That’s one hell of a curse.”

He pouts, “Well, how do we fix it?”

You grin, “Dean, look in the mirror.”

“What?” he asks, turning to look, “I already did. I saw, I’ve got tits!” he says angrily.

You laugh again, “Okay… but look without the initial shock now. Dean… you’re **hot**!”

He looks confused for a second, and then lets his eyes wander over his reflection, lingering on his chest, turning to check out his ass. He smirks, “Yeah, I guess I am.” His smile quickly dissipates though, “Ok, but I am not staying a chick forever. We gotta fix this.”

You smirk and walk over to him, despairing to see that even in this much smaller body, he was still a couple inches taller than you. You place your hands on his hips and push yourself close to him, your mouth at his ear, “Dean, baby, I am not letting you fix this until you’ve had a multiple orgasm.”

He shudders under your touch, “You’re kidding, right?” he whispers, looking at you with those deep green eyes that are the one thing on his body that are still exactly the same. You let your hands trail up and down his body, pausing to grope one breast and tweak a nipple, running slowly back down to caress the soft skin of his inner thighs. He lets out a shaky breath, “Y/N.”

“Not fair, is it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him, “This is what you do to me. I’m just getting payback.”

He groans, and it’s softer than usual and much too high for his voice. His hands slip around your waist to grab your ass and push your hips against his.

“I can’t- I want- Y/N, how-? I want to fuck you,” he gets out.

You shake your head and laugh, “You don’t exactly have the equipment for that right now, babe, and I unfortunately do not own a strap on.”

He groans again.

“But,” you say coyly, “I can do something even better.” You take his hand and pull him after you back into the shower, shedding your clothing as you go. You turn on the shower and guide him under the hot spray. There’s excitement and hesitation in his eyes. You lean in and gently kiss his soft lips, rolling his bottom lip between your teeth gently and soothing the nip over with your tongue.

“This’ll feel so good, baby, I promise,” you whisper, “Lemme show you how it feels when you pleasure me.”

He watches in anticipation as you sink to your knees on the wet tile floor of the shower. You grab his full hips and guide him back against the wall, angling him so that his shoulders are braced against the tile but his hips are angled toward you. You run one finger up his slit, over his clit. He bucks his hips toward you involuntarily, “Holy shit, Y/N, that’s what that feels like?”

You chuckle and put one of his legs over your shoulder, moving in slowly, you run the tip of your tongue gently, slowly, over his outer lips, reveling in his shudders and tiny gasps. “Fuck, Dean, female you is hot,” you groan, “I think I might wanna keep you like this.” He buries one hand in your hair and tries to push your face back towards his dripping centre. You let his hand stay in your hair, but you hold his hips back so you still have some semblance of control over how much friction he gets. You repeat the gentle ghost of your tongue up his slit, and then push it firmly against his clit.

“Y/N! Fuck!” he moans in that high-pitched voice that you were coming to enjoy all too much. You toy with his clit gently with the tip of your tongue, moving it quickly back and forth and in circles, just the way you loved when he did it to you. The noises he was making were music to your ears. He was even more vocal now than when you sucked his cock, and he was _very_ vocal then. For a minute, you missed his deep, rough voice and big, calloused hands, but then he lets out a tiny squeal, a throaty moan, and his hand tightens in your hair as he desperately tries to get more friction against his clit by canting his hips up into your face. You moan and give him what he wants, swiping your tongue roughly along his slit a couple times before coming back up to tongue and suck at his clit roughly. He screams when you take it between your teeth gently, just the way he often did to you.

“Babe! Babe! Babe! Fuck!” he was panting, his hips rocking into your face. You reach up and push two fingers slowly into him as your tongue plays fast and hard with his clit.

“Oh!” he moans, eyes open wide in surprise and you look up to make sure that he’s okay. You push them in slowly, not stopping the movements of your tongue.

“You okay, baby?” you ask, “You want me to stop?”

He shakes his head vigorously, curls bouncing around his face, and lets out a high pitched whimper, “Y/N.” You push your fingers all the way in and crook them against his g spot, rubbing it roughly as you pick up speed with your tongue. He screams, and his hand tightens even more in your hair as he pushes his hips impossibly closer to your face and comes. You lap it up happily, continuing to fuck him with your fingers as he rides through his orgasm. You add a third finger and keep up your assault on his overly sensitive clit, trying to push him over the edge a second time.

“Y/N! Fuck! What—,” he gasps, trying to pull his hips back from the assault.

“Trust me, Dean,” you tell him, moaning at how hot he looks, how good he tastes, and how wonderful he sounds. You squeeze your thighs together and try to get some friction on your own hot center. But this isn’t about you.

Your moan vibrates against his clit and he moans a long, high moan as he comes again, eyes wide and body shaking. You shove his leg off your shoulder and catch him as he slips back against the tile and sinks to the floor in front of you, panting. “Holy fuck,” he gasps, and you giggle, “Is that how it always feels?”

“When you do it right,” you say and laugh at his expression.

“Hey! I am the **master** at that!” he argues.

You smile, “You are _very_ good,” you purr, leaning over to kiss him softly, “The best I’ve ever had. But I think I just gave you a run for your money.”

“Now I feel like I should give you a blowjob or something,” he mumbles.

You laugh, “Man, I wish I had a dick for a day. See what that feels like. Plus your lips would look so good wrapped around a cock,” you say, your eyes darkening with lust as you look into his eyes and grip his jaw in one hand, “Your usual lips,” you clarify, winking.

“Yeah, you wish,” he chuckles.

You shrug, “You know you’d love it.”

He stands up, groaning at his wobbly legs, then helps you to your feet as well, “Ok, so that was fun, but now how do we change me back?”

You sigh, “It’s late. Why don’t we go to bed and deal with it in the morning?”

You both dry off and go back to Dean’s room to crawl into bed. The bed seems three times bigger than it usually was since Dean was so much smaller now. He kisses your head as you drift off to sleep against his breast, “That was really hot, babe,” he murmurs.

“Next time we’ll use my vibrator,” you mumble sleepily into his chest.

“Next time,” he chuckles, “Right.”

* * *

 

Dean’s the first one up the next morning, showered, and dressed in your clothes, which you find and odd mix between incredibly hot and adorable. You find him in the kitchen, seated at the counter, eating a bacon and egg sandwich and hunched over a book of witchcraft.

“Good morning, beautiful,” you tease, kissing him and wrapping your arms around his lithe waist. Honestly, if you didn’t miss his huge, warm, hard body, you could’ve gotten used to this.

He laughs sarcastically and snorts at you in response.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Find anything?”

“No, not a damn thing!” he mumbles around a mouthful of his breakfast sandwich. Same old Dean.

Sam walks into the kitchen, “Good Morning," he mumbles. He’s shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a towel draped around his neck, sweaty from his morning workout. He smiles and raises an eyebrow, “Who is this?”

“Whoa! Whoa! It’s me!” Dean says quickly, “It’s Dean! Don’t go getting any bright ideas!”

“Dean?” he asks incredulously, his eyes getting wide before he bursts out laughing, “I guess the little witch does know her stuff!”

Dean groans, “Yeah, and this book is fucking useless! There’s nothing in here about a magical sex change, or how to reverse it!”

“I guess we’ll just have to go back,” you suggest.

He sighs and slams the book shut, “Get packed, I’ll go gas up Baby.”

“We _just_ got home,” Sam complains.

“Yeah, and I got an innie where there should be an outtie, Sam, so come on. We’re going back!” Dean snaps.

Sam laughs as Dean hops up and goes to the garage. “What’s the rush?” he calls after him, “I always wanted a sister!”

Dean flips him off behind his back as he walks away.

* * *

 

“You know, I can’t give you road head, but I can do something else to relax you, baby,” you lean close and whisper in Dean’s ear when you see him white knuckling the steering wheel, jaw clenched. You run your fingers softly up his thigh, slipping between his legs, and move up to toy with the button on the jeans of yours that he’s wearing.

“Y/N,” he whispers in warning, eyes darting to the rear view mirror to look at Sam in the backseat, who has got his nose in his laptop, not paying any attention to what’s going on in the front seat.

“Ssh,” you hiss as you unbutton the jeans and slip your fingers inside, forefinger playing with his clit gently. He sucks in a breath and you watch his jaw clench tighten, “Y/N,” he warns again.

“Come on, Dean, this is gonna be gone soon and I wanna make the most of it,” you grin.

“If you’re so into chicks, can’t we just have a threesome like a normal couple?” he asks, chuckling.

“I may take you up on that, Winchester. But at the moment I am trying to finger my boyfriend,” your fingers slip down to push inside him, your thumb still playing with his clit and you silently curse your tight jeans for restricting your movement. His hips buck involuntarily up into your hand and he groans softly. You turn your head to check that Sam didn’t hear anything and you are relieved to see that he has his earbuds in.

“Be as loud as you want, baby, just don’t make a show of it,” you purr into his ear, mouth attaching to his neck to kiss and suck while your hand worked under his pants.

The kissing, Sam did see, but he was used to it and all it got you was an eye roll and him turning his attention firmly back to his laptop, but his cheeks were red. You silently wonder if Dean being a girl was making your PDA anymore erotic for his brother. You chuckle at the thought as you go back to kissing up Dean’s throat, over his jawline, to his ear where you nip playfully at his earlobe the way he likes as you slip another finger inside of him.

“Babe, I am driving,” Dean says in a breathy moan.

“Never bothered you before,” you mumble, kissing his jawline and inhaling deeply as you nuzzle into his soft curls, “Babe? Did you use my shampoo?” you giggle.

He blushes, “So what? It smells good! And I have all this hair now…”

“I love you,” you sigh, picking up the pace to the best of your ability under the tight jeans.

“I- I love you, too,” he manages to choke out in little breathy gasps as he stills and comes in your hand. You pull your hand out, do up the jeans, and wipe your fingers on his inner thigh, placing one last kiss underneath his ear as you whisper, “That was fun,” and scoot back over to the shotgun seat.

You shoot a look back at Sam to see if he witnessed any of that, and judging by how red his neck and ears are, and how his laptop is positioned just-so in his lap, you’re guessing that he saw enough. You let out a low chuckle at that and turn forward again to lean against the window. You turn up the stereo and sing along to the AC/DC song with Dean for the rest of the trip.

* * *

 

“What do you mean she was transferred?” Dean growls angrily into the phone at his brother who had gone to the Detention Center to find the young witch- Mackenzie, “She was checked in two days ago! Why’d they transfer her?”

“Unruly behaviour,” you hear Sam answer on his end of the line, “They couldn’t figure out how she was hurting people so they sent her away so that they wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“Damn institutions!” Dean growls, “Can no one do their **damn** jobs? Well, where was she transferred to?”

“They won’t release that information,” Sam says.

“Not even to a fed?” Dean looks like he’s about to smash something.

“That’s confidential information, Dean, she’s in the care of the system now. And a teenage delinquent isn’t exactly the FBI’s deal. I’ve got no leverage here,” he explains.

“Well that’s just great!” Dean yells, “What now?”

“We find another witch and hope she can help us?” Sam offers.

Dean sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yeah, well you do that. I’ll be at the bar.” He hangs up the phone, grabs your jacket and pulls it on, stalking toward the car. You follow him, sliding into the passenger seat next to him.

“Dean-,” you start.

“I just need a drink!” he snaps angrily.

You say nothing on the way to the bar. You knew that when Dean got angry like this it was best to leave him alone until he calmed down. You get out of the Impala and try to keep up with Dean as you follow him to the bar. He slides onto a bar stool, and doesn’t even bother to check out the bartender as he says, “Whiskey, neat. And make it a double.”

"Make that two, please,” you say cheerily, smiling at her to make up for Dean’s bad behaviour. “Dean, we’ll find a way to fix this,” you say quietly to him, “As much as I am loving this new body of yours at the moment… I miss my big, strong, handsome boyfriend. So I promise, we will find a way to get him back.”

“Hello ladies,” a large man with a thick black beard and arm tattoos comes up to you, flashing a winning smile, “You two beauties here alone?”

“Back off, douchebag, I ain’t your type,” Dean growls.

The man laughs, “Feisty. I’d say that’s exactly my type,” he puts his hands on Dean’s shoulders and you see him tense up to throw a punch.

“Hands off, dude, she’s taken!” you hiss, jumping to your feet.

He holds his hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright. Didn’t realize I was dealing with a couple of-.”

“You better shut your mouth right now before I shut it for you, asshole!” Dean yells.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” the guy mutters as he stalks away.

“God, how do you deal with that all the time?” Dean huffs as the two of you sit back down.

You shrug, “You get used to it. Plus now I have you so no one really bothers me much unless I’m alone.”

“Maybe I should put a ring on it,” he mumbles under his breath.

“What?” your eyes widen in surprise, “Dean-.”

“No! No! I was just thinking out loud is all,” he backtracks, “I just meant, so that other guys don’t hit on you when I’m not around. I wasn’t being serious.”

You relax, “Okay.”

“No,” he repeats, “I mean, I love you, Y/N, but-.”

You hold up your hands, “No need to explain, Dean. I am definitely not thinking that already.”

“Ok, good.”

You look up as Sam arrives and slides in next to you.

“Sam! Good! Did you find anything?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. I think so,” Sam says, “You remember that poltergeist we took care of a month back?”

“Right! That woman was a witch!” you remember excitedly.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, “So hopefully, she’ll remember she owes us one, and put Dean back to normal.”

“Great, so now we have to go to Ohio,” Dean says, hopping up, “Let’s hit the road.”

* * *

 

You pull up to a house that you recognize from the hunt last month and the three of you get out of the car. When you knock on the door you’re surprised when a man you don’t recognize answers it, “Can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Sam, and this is Dean, er… Deanna, and Y/N. We’re looking for Aleeah Tate, does she still live here?” Sam asks.

“Mom!” The man yells, stepping aside to let you in, “You’ve got visitors!”

“Sam! Y/N!” The old woman greets as you approach her, “I wish I could say that it’s good to see you, but from what I understand, that usually means bad news.”

“No,” Sam says, “Nothing like that. I was hoping you could help my brother actually,” he gestures at Dean.

“Dean?” Aleeah asks, eyes wide in a laugh, “Is that you? My, that is one _amusing_ curse!”

“Yeah, to everyone but me,” Dean grumbles, “Can you fix it?”

She smiles knowingly at him, “I should be able to manage that. Hang on.” She disappears into her kitchen and comes back with a bottle holding some sort of green liquid that smells like peppermint and apples, “Here, honey, drink this.”

Dean eyes it skeptically, “And this’ll change me back?”

Aleeah nods, “It should do the trick, yes.”

Dean shrugs and downs the contents of the bottle in one go. He looks down at himself, “Nothing happened.”

“Well, give it time, honey!” the witch chides him, “Go, get a good night’s sleep and if you’re not your usual, ruggedly handsome self again by morning come and see me again.”

“Thanks, Aleeah,” you say gratefully.

“Not a problem, honey,” Aleeah winks at you, “I’m sure you’re just dying for him to get back to himself again.”

“I don’t know,” you smile, “I’m kind of enjoying Deanna here.”

She laughs, “Well, you three go on now. Hopefully I don’t see you tomorrow.”

You leave.

When you get to the dingy motel room, you flop down onto the bed, exhausted from the long drive and having not slept since you left the bunker the day before. “I’m gonna take a shower,” Dean grumbles, still bitter that the potion hadn’t worked yet.

“Think it’ll work?” Sam asks when you hear the shower turn on.

You shrug sleepily, “I dunno. I hope so.”

“Do you?” Sam asks, smirking, “You seemed to be enjoying this curse a little too much.”

“One man’s curse is his bisexual girlfriend’s greatest fantasy, Sammy,” you say, closing your eyes, “But I had my fun. I want my Dean back. I’m ready to say goodbye to Deanna.”

You drift off and the last thing you hear is Sam’s chuckle in response.

* * *

 

When you open your eyes, your head is pressed up against a warm, broad, familiar chest. Strong arms are wrapped around you protectively, and no hair is tickling your face but Dean’s stubble where his chin is rested against your forehead. “Dean!” you shake his shoulder, “Dean, baby, wake up! You’re you again!”

“Wha-,” he mumbles, opening his eyes, “Y/N? What are you talking-.” He sits up suddenly and lifts the blankets to look down at himself, “I’m a dude again!” he shouts excitedly.

“Congratulations,” Sam mumbles from the other bed sleepily, “Now, shut up, jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean answers, smiling. You lean up and kiss him, reveling in the way his lips feel against yours, how his stubble is rough and scratchy against your cheeks, how big and warm he is, how rough and huge his hands are splayed across your lower back, how nice it feels to have his big strong arms wrapped around you like nothing could ever hurt you, how he is purely and totally _Dean_.

“God, I missed this,” you breathe.

“Really?” Dean asks, “’Cause I thought for sure you were gonna realize how much you like girls and leave me there for a while.”

You laugh, “I do like girls,” you agree, “And I like boys. But mostly, I just like YOU, Dean. No matter what gender you are, no matter what body you have. But this- this is familiar. This is nice.”

He chuckles and kisses your hair, “You liked being the dominant one there for a while, didn’t you?”

You flash a grin at him, “Oh, _hell_ yes.”

“You know, you still can be if you want,” he whispers.

“Maybe sometimes,” you agree, “But I like it when you’re in charge too much to do that _every time_.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, “Those multiple orgasms though… wow! You chicks got it made! I’m gonna miss that.”

You giggle and kiss him again.

“I’m still gonna use your shampoo,” he mutters, “It smells good.”

“Then you’re buying me more,” you laugh.

“Deal,” he kisses your forehead.

“I love you, Dean,” you sigh.

“Love you, too,” he mumbles against your skin, slipping his eyes closed again and tightening his arms around you.

You smile and fall back asleep contentedly against his chest.


End file.
